The Forgotten Girl

by David Bell

  “I want to apologize for something,” Regan said.

  “What?”

  “The other day I said you hero-worshipped Logan, that you looked up to him too much. I realize that was a little bit of a cheap shot. You balanced him as well. That’s a more accurate way to put it.”

  “No, you’re right. I was always the runner-up to him. I followed along in his wake. He got everything he wanted.”

  “Not everything,” Regan said quickly and with an edge to her voice.

  “I said some awful things to him that night when we fought. I called him out for being spoiled, for thinking that all the best things should flow to him automatically. I told him he needed to let someone else have a turn in the sun.”

  “And what did he say to you?”

  “He insulted my family. And me. My future as an artist.”

  “He always had a cutting tongue.”

  “Maybe he was smarter than I gave him credit for, at least about my career.”

  “Stop that.”

  “He told me I’d never understand the way the world works because I hadn’t grown up with money. He said I just didn’t get it.”

  “He was full of it.”

  “He was. But . . . I’m sure you saw through it sometimes. He was insecure. He was scared. He lived in his dad’s shadow.”

  Jason remembered Logan’s sixteenth birthday party, which was held at the country club. Logan’s father had come late, and then after about thirty minutes was called to the phone. When he came back to the table, Mr. Shaw announced that he needed to head back to the office in order to deal with some crisis. Jason watched Logan’s face. He shook his dad’s hand and said good-bye as though it was no big deal, but Jason knew his dad’s departure hurt him. When Jason asked Logan about it later, Logan just shrugged and said, “That’s how the old man keeps the clothes on my back.”

  “I was angry with him graduation night,” Jason said to Regan, “but I felt sorry for him a lot of times as well. He could seem so lost. His mother wasn’t around because of the divorce. . . . That house must have been awfully lonely.”

  “I don’t think you have anything to feel bad about,” Regan said. Her voice sounded tired. “He started the fight. He was a big boy.”

  “But that was the last conversation we had. Ever.”

  “Jason?”

  Jason tensed a little. Nora. He put the phone down.

  “What?” he said.

  “Are you talking to someone?” Nora was calling from the top of the steps. “Is someone here?”

  “Just a minute,” he said into the phone.

  “Is it news?” Nora asked.

  “I’ll be right there.” Jason picked up the phone again and whispered, “I have to go. It’s late.”

  “Is it Nora?” Regan asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re allowed to talk to an old friend,” Regan said.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.”

  Jason ended the call, but he didn’t head upstairs right away. He stared at the TV a few minutes longer, remembering the times he watched Reds games with his own father. He wouldn’t have traded parents with Logan, not ever. But he certainly knew there were times when he would have gladly traded lives with him. House for house, bank account for bank account. Logan’s life could look so enticing to anyone on the outside, but something that night twenty-seven years ago made him willing to throw it all away.

  Jason turned the TV off and went upstairs. The bedroom was dark. Nora had already turned the lights out, and in the pale glow that leaked in from the street, he could see her shape beneath the covers. The ceiling fan overhead made a soft whirring noise, stirring the air. The windows were open and a light breeze moved the gauzy curtains. Jason didn’t undress or get ready for bed. He sat in a chair across the room.

  “Who was on the phone?” Nora asked.

  “It was Regan. We talked about the past a little.”

  “The past? What about the past?”

  “You don’t mind that she called me?” Jason asked.

  “Should I?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “She’s a friend. I’m just trying to be open about everything, the way the marriage counselor taught me.”

  “Me too. But you don’t have to roll your eyes every time the marriage counselor comes up. It helped us.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not arguing with you about Regan,” Nora said.

  “Thanks. Do you remember my friend Logan? The guy who left town on the night of graduation?”

  The covers rustled. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Jason could see Nora moving, turning over and sitting up with a pillow placed behind her back. “Of course I remember,” she said. “Your best friend. What about him?”

  “Colton’s looking for him.”

  “Why?”

  Jason explained about the will and Logan’s dying father. He said, “Because we fought that night and had words, I’ve always felt a little responsible for him going away so suddenly.”

  “I remember. And I’ve told you that’s you being unfair to yourself. You didn’t make anyone go away. You didn’t make Hayden or Sierra go away either.”

  “Just hear me out,” he said. “I think all the time about the people who’ve gone away. My parents are gone. Your dad died last year.”

  He hesitated. He didn’t know exactly where he was going with his thoughts.

  “What?” Nora said, after a long pause.

  “I guess I think that if all of them were here again, the ones who can be here. Logan, Hayden, Sierra. If they were all here, then . . . somehow things would feel complete in a way they haven’t for a while. You and I are doing well, but there are so many other parts of my life that feel incomplete. My family. Friends.”

  “That’s sweet, Jason,” Nora said.

  “Sweet but crazy?” Jason asked. “Naive?”

  “Impossible maybe.” Across the dark room he saw her yawn. “It’s late and we’ve had a long day. Why don’t you come to bed and sleep?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The ringing phone brought Jason out of a deep sleep. He dreamed of a broken window, the glass shattered on the ground, blood smeared around the pane. He didn’t reach for the phone, didn’t realize what it was until Nora nudged him in the side.

  “Can you get that?” she asked.

  Then he came back to himself. He remembered everything. Hayden. Sierra. The missing car. The drugs. He picked the phone up and answered without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  There was the briefest pause, the sound of breathing. And then a voice. “Uncle Jason?”

  Jason snapped fully awake. The windows were still open, the room cool.

  “Sierra?”

  “I need you to come help me,” she said. Her voice sounded breathy, frantic. Was she being hurt? Chased?

  “Where are you? I’ll come right away.”

  “I’m at that park . . . the one outside of town. Heroin Hill.”

  “I’m coming.”

  “Hurry,” she said. “It’s Mom.”

  “Hayden?”

  “Her—” The phone faded, then came back. “—get here.”

  “I’m coming. I’m coming right now.”

  Jason bounded out of bed, grabbing clothes.

  “Is she okay?” Nora asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m coming with you this time,” she said. “You don’t have a choice.”

  Jason didn’t argue. He didn’t want to. “I know. Let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  It was ten after five when they turned into the park. The night was dark, the headlights providing the only illumination on the winding road. Nora called Sierra back while Jason drove.

  “W
here are you?” Nora asked. “We’re here.” She listened. “Walnut Grove shelter?” Nora said.

  Jason nodded. He knew it was to the left, about halfway around the looping drive that circled the park. He went that way, driving as fast as he could and still feel safe. The woods were full of deer. They had a tendency to jump in front of vehicles. The past fall a man on a motorcycle was killed when he collided with one. But Jason couldn’t help himself. He felt his foot getting heavier against the gas pedal, felt the car speeding up. Sierra was so close. She was right there.

  And Hayden too? What did she try to say about her mom?

  Had Jason been right there on top of both of them in the park earlier that day and missed them? He vowed not to miss again.

  It took a few minutes for the shelter to come into sight. They hadn’t seen any other cars, no other people in the predawn eerie quiet. The headlights caught the eyes of an animal along the tree line to the left. The orbs glowed red, but the animal—a rabbit?—turned and ran as the car came along.

  Then he saw the two vehicles. At the picnic shelter parking lot, the headlights showed him their car, a black Honda Accord. The one Sierra took. As they approached, he saw the two-foot-long gash along the side as though it had scraped against something big. As the illumination of their headlights approached, the driver’s-side door opened. Sierra stepped out. She looked thin and young and scared. The headlights made her appear ghostly, ethereal. Jason didn’t recognize the car parked next to theirs, but he had a guess.

  “There she is,” Nora said.

  Jason stopped behind the two cars. He didn’t bother pulling into a spot. He jumped out, and Nora did the same.

  “Are you okay?” Jason asked.

  Sierra looked cold, even though the night wasn’t. She wore a T-shirt and jeans. Her red Chuck Taylor sneakers provided the only color in the darkness. She just nodded in response to Jason’s question, looking very much like a little child.

  Nora came around and hugged Sierra. The girl didn’t return the hug, but she didn’t resist either. She let Nora fold her up in her arms. While Nora held her, she managed to take her own sweatshirt off and maneuver it over Sierra’s shoulders, a series of gestures that struck Jason as particularly maternal.

  “You said something about your mom when you called,” Jason said. “Is this her car?”

  Sierra nodded again.

  It was a Toyota Corolla, about ten or twelve years old. It had dents in the front and the back, and the left rear tire, the one closest to Jason, looked underinflated. He couldn’t have expected Hayden to drive a car nicer than that one. Not yet anyway.

  “Is she here?” he asked. “Did you see her?”

  Sierra shook her head. “Just the car. I came by here tonight, just about an hour ago, and I saw the car. It wasn’t here before. I’ve been through the park about five times in the last day looking for her, and she wasn’t here. And the car wasn’t here either. But tonight it showed up.”

  “Why did you come back tonight?” Jason asked.

  “I don’t know. I’ve been driving around. I thought maybe if I came here at night, I’d have better luck. I’ve heard about this place, about the drugs and all of that. I thought if she were drinking or just hanging out with bad people, she might come here. I was desperate.”

  “You came here an hour ago?” Jason asked. “What took so long to call?”

  “I looked around a little. I went down one of the trails.”

  “You shouldn’t do that here,” Nora said. “You don’t know who could be in this place.”

  “I wanted to look. I didn’t go far, and I couldn’t see anything. I called her name. I thought if she was here and she heard my voice . . . but there was nothing. No response. I didn’t see anybody. A couple of cars went by, but they didn’t stop.”

  “Did you look in the car?” Jason asked.

  Sierra had straightened up from the hug Nora gave her, but the two women still stood next to each other. Nora kept her arm over Sierra’s shoulder, holding her tight, providing warmth and comfort.

  Sierra shook her head. “The door’s locked. All of them are locked.” She paused. “Mom never locks the car. She always says that if someone wants to steal something, they can have it. It’s an old car. It doesn’t even have a decent stereo.”

  Jason’s eyes wandered to the trunk. It was closed tight. He thought of Hayden and her mysterious mission. Being seen with Jesse Dean. He turned and went to the passenger side of his car, opened the door, and reached in. He brought out a small flashlight, one he carried for emergencies and had never used. The few times in his life he had ever broken down, he had called someone for help. His dad. A friend. Later, he relied on Triple A.

  As he approached Hayden’s car again, he asked, “Did you see anything inside?”

  “Too dark,” Sierra said.

  Nora must have been thinking along the same lines as Jason because she gave Sierra a gentle squeeze and said, “Why don’t we sit in the car, honey? Where it’s warmer?”

  “No,” Sierra said. “I want to see what’s in the car.”

  Jason took the flashlight to the passenger side of Hayden’s car, the side farthest away from Sierra and Nora. He really didn’t want to shine the light inside. He worried about what might be in there. He hesitated. The night birds called in the trees, and up above, a bank of clouds slid past the half-moon. He turned the flashlight on and pressed it against the passenger’s side window.

  The car was messy. Jason expected that. He knew how Hayden kept a car in high school, and this one looked no different. Paper wrappers littered the floor on the passenger side. He flicked the light up and saw the keys dangling from the ignition.

  “The keys are still in here,” he said. “How is it locked?”

  “They’re not power locks,” Sierra said. “You just push the button down and lift the handle. Mom couldn’t afford anything else.”

  Jason continued to move the beam around. He saw nothing unusual, nothing besides the keys in the ignition. Someone didn’t care if the car was found, or else had left in a hurry. He shifted the beam to the backseat, and as he did his anxiety increased. But again he saw nothing. More junk. More papers and empty cups. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for or what he thought he might find. Did he expect to see a note that said, “Here’s where Hayden is and this is what she’s involved in”?

  Jason straightened up and turned to the trunk. He played the light across the metal surface. He saw a splatter of bird crap, a couple of scrapes and dings. But nothing else. He passed the beam along the ground around the car. Still nothing.

  “Do you see anything?” Nora asked.

  “No.”

  “I almost picked up a rock and smashed the window,” Sierra said.

  “Why?” Jason asked.

  “I could get to the keys and see what’s in the trunk.”

  “I think we should call the police,” Jason said. “Let them handle all of this however they want.”

  “But what if . . . ?” Sierra said.

  “What?”

  “What if she’s . . . in there. And she needs our help. Now.”

  “There’s probably nothing in there,” Nora said.

  Jason leaned over and made a fist. He lightly rapped on the trunk lid, creating a metallic thump. He waited a few seconds and tried again.

  “She could be hurt,” Sierra said.

  “I’m going to call,” Nora said. She had already taken her phone out. “She’s probably not here, but the police can arrive quickly. If they need to, they can get into the car.”

  While Nora dialed and spoke to a dispatcher, Jason moved back to the side windows of the car. He shone the light inside again, looking for anything he might have missed the first time. He heard Nora giving their location as well as the name of Detective Olsen. She finally said to both of them, “They’re on their way.
Olsen’s coming even though it’s Saturday. Let’s just sit tight.”

  Jason’s light picked up a smear near the bottom of the back of the front passenger seat. He hadn’t seen it before. It was small, only about the size of a half-dollar, and as he held the light on it, he almost convinced himself it was chocolate or shoe polish. Anything but what he feared it was. He wasn’t going to say anything, but Sierra said, “What do you see?”

  He didn’t answer. He snapped the light off and stood up.

  Sierra came around to his side of the car, her shoes scraping across the pavement. “Tell me,” she said. “I’m not a kid. Just tell me.”

  “It’s probably nothing.”

  “Show me.”

  She reached for the flashlight, and Jason pulled it away. He wanted to tell her she may not always act like a kid, but she still was. He wished she didn’t have to know these things, even if it was she who took their car without permission.

  She didn’t need to know everything, did she?

  But he knew the answer. Sierra did need to know. She’d find out in a few minutes when the police arrived.

  He flicked the light back on and guided the beam to the spot on the upholstery.

  “What is it?” Nora asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Jason said.

  “Oh, bullshit,” Sierra said. “Fuck. It’s blood. It’s my mother’s fucking blood.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Detective Olsen and a crime scene technician arrived. They walked around Hayden’s car, using flashlights, while a couple of uniformed officers took statements from Jason and his family. Olsen and the technician paid as much attention to the ground around the car as they did the trunk. Then the technician went into his unmarked vehicle and brought out a Slim Jim, which he took over to the driver’s-side door of Hayden’s car. He popped the lock and opened the door, reaching in for the trunk release latch.

  “Jesus, they’re going to open it,” Sierra said.

  “Do you want to go home?” Jason asked.

  “No,” Sierra said, her voice firm.

  Jason felt relieved in a way. He wanted to stay as well. He wished he had picked up a rock and smashed the window. What if they’d waited too long? What if Hayden had suffocated in those moments while they called the police?